


By morning, our voices will sink

by vibecentral



Series: Buried Alive [1]
Category: New Dangan Ronpa V3: Everyone's New Semester of Killing
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, M/M, Post-Canon Fix-It, everything still happened but it also didnt, not as confusing as it sounds if ure familiar w the rest of dr lore lol, urbex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-14
Updated: 2020-01-14
Packaged: 2021-02-27 11:53:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,248
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22216591
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vibecentral/pseuds/vibecentral
Summary: The Ultimate Academy was to be destroyed in the morning. As Kokichi and Rantaro stood between its walls one last time, they thought things didn't have to be that different to simply be better.or, Kokichi and Rantaro run around unhinged while they reflect on the events of the game.
Relationships: Amami Rantaro & Oma Kokichi, Amami Rantaro/Oma Kokichi
Series: Buried Alive [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1599256
Kudos: 49





	By morning, our voices will sink

**Author's Note:**

> titles from because we have to by low roar  
> the 2nd part might take a while to write, in the meantime this can stand on its own & feedbacks appreciated as always  
> dont call any of the characters rats in my notifs thank u

The Ultimate Academy was to be destroyed in the morning. It had been a couple years since anyone had set a foot in there, and it seemed that, finally, the state had gotten the permits required to tear it to the ground. The tragedy it had housed could finally be over and in a week, the media would switch back to another story.

Kokichi sneaked in, obviously. What Supreme Leader of Evil would miss a chance to trespass one last time? He climbed up a fence and he was back on old torture grounds. He only knew the campus too well after weeks spent exploring every corner. He strolled to the main doors and they swung with ease.  
The inside of the building was dark. Dust particles lingered in the air and every step he took disturbed the accumulated grime. He raised his scarf over his nose and clicked his flashlight before carrying on, narrowly avoiding an access to the basement he'd never seen before. He followed along the familiar hall, stopping at times to take in the sights. It didn't feel any different from the last time he'd quietly roamed there. He found it underwhelming. He'd expected change; and there was change in the lack of metal plating and the bigger number of classrooms, but he was stuck on how much that didn't matter. It still had the same slight echo and the same dry smell and the same heaviness when the night's just a bit too still. He couldn't fully grasp it because on all accounts, it shouldn't have been the exact same. He'd been trapped there years ago. It was now just a regular abandoned building with none of the threats he'd known, and he'd only been held in fake digital make-believe anyway. He traced the walls with the tip of his fingers and it only made the past simulation so much more real. He went up stairs and couldn't tell the difference between what he'd physically experienced or not. Past the three empty rooms, he cringed at the memory of blood gently pooling at his feet. He understood he wouldn't be going anywhere near the hangar tonight.  
On the fifth floor, Kokichi stopped. He slowly clicked off his light and focused on his breathing. He never cared for Tsumugi's lab, though maybe, in hindsight, he should've. He probably could've picked up on how awfully excited she was to play dress up under their circumstances, and insistent on staying unnoticed. He didn't resent her, though. They'd all been brainwashed into carrying out a sick game, so-called mastermind included. Instead, he stayed fixated on the faint light on the other side of the archway. The floor picked up the artificial glow in a way the moonlight hardly managed to be. Rantaro's mysterious lab had been opened, and he had to see what was in there for himself. He made his way through the vast hall, attentive to stay both quiet and careless, just in case.

The door resisted him. He could feel his pulse beat against his ears and all his senses buzz in a way he'd forgotten. On the other side, someone noticed him, and as the voice called, Kokichi blinked into an unnerving grin. He waltzed inside with a loud whistle. "Not a bad lab, Rantaro, not a bad lab at all!". The other boy sighed, as much in exhaustion as relief. As he made his way towards the table, and hopped up on it, he went on. "Funny seeing you here, did you come back to haunt the place? Seek revenge maybe?". That had another mixed reaction, but what tension had built seemed to dissipate with that shrug and so, Kokichi took it as a win. He bounced his legs and waited for Rantaro to speak up. "I could ask you the same. Are you bored of your lab already?". There was something genuine behind the question, but it was quickly brushed aside. "It's been years, Amami! Don't tell me you're not bored of yours!" His foot bumped in a chair. "I guess that does make me the weird one." Rantaro closed the laptop and slid it in his bag, along with whatever paperwork was spread on the table. "Were you doing your taxes or something?" A chuckle. "You should do yours soon, the date's coming up." Kokichi's heels hit the table as he all but laughed in his face. "Oh, you didn't know? I'm a serial tax evader! Well- DICE is, I just have to evade mine as well to set a good example." Another smile from Rantaro. "Seems it's not as easy being Supreme Leader as I thought."

They went back and forth for a bit. The banter danced around their concerns with ease, until they'd climbed up and down every piece of furniture and left the suspended decor swaying. Rantaro watched from inside the safe as Kokichi fell silent. He grabbed one of the portraits on the wall, and left it there.   
"Do you remember those people?"   
Rantaro didn't move. "I don't."   
"They look old as shit."   
A laugh. "I think they're just place-holders. Were they the same during the game?"  
"I don't remember."   
"It doesn't really matter anymore, anyway."   
He got out of the safe. "It might be better to let sleeping dogs lie, after all." His smile fell flat. They were both standing in the Ultimate Survivor's lab the night before its demolition, they'd kicked the strays wide awake already. They couldn't ignore it much longer, there was a reason they'd independently decided to come and it might've been a voiceless impulse at the time but it had taken shape the moment their eyes met. They'd given their life to this game. The people they'd tried to save wanted nothing to do with it anymore, no matter what puzzles were still left, they were ready to move on. But they'd died already. They'd died as a clue, willing to throw themselves to the cogs as their final gesture, and then they woke up. Unharmed, breathing, alive. Their blood pumping a bit too warm, they had to reconstruct a new sense of purpose for themselves.  
"Ye, pass." Rantaro blinked. "I don't care if they're dogs, you know how much I hate liars-" He pointed at the green bag. "And you're still bringing all that junk with you, so let's play the game you came here for instead." He waited for Rantaro to process, and cut him as he opened his mouth. "Did you come straight to this lab? Some endgame stuff got opened while you were, you know, dead. It might be worth checking out." Rantaro slung his bag on a shoulder with a sigh. "I was heading to yours next, actually. Do you remember any weird info laying in there?" Kokichi let the door clack behind them. "Nope!"

Rantaro led the way. He navigated each floor efficiently, confident in his grasp on the increasingly absurd layout of a building he'd only ever seen the two first floors of. He did pause to contemplate the shy moonlight, but quickly kept walking, with the other trailing a little way behind. Kokichi's stride was much less focused. He'd tripped over twice, or rather had pretended to, and he kicked the stagnant dust with each step. It effectively obscured their tracks- in case anyone cared to reverse engineer their little expedition once the place would be collapsed, but mainly just for the fun of it. Neither felt the need to talk or turn their flashlight on.

Only once the dark door was behind them and they found themselves in another closed room did they speak up again. "Uh." It echoed slightly, bounced off the slabs of concrete all around. Rantaro was already looking through the crates. There wasn't much else to search, really. The blue neons illuminated every inch of the bare floor, and the plastic lazily picked it up. Kokichi walked up to the throne and if it hadn't been clearly labeled for him, he would've sat in it. He stood, instead, fixated not on what barely qualified as a chair, but on everything else. It was all cheap, offensive make-believe, and because it was nothing like his actual headquarters he felt impossibly exposed. None of this was real. He would've bet the same was true in the simulation as well. It begged the question, though. Was something missing? It now seemed pointless to wander the real building as if it was the one they'd known. No murder had taken place between these walls, they'd seen no blood seep in their floors or corpses left to rot. He hadn't yet filled this place with his lies, or had only just started, but still, they'd made him a chamber to expose all of it. The car was fake, the computer was fake and even the clown masks were fake. He remembered claiming the mastermind title once, and explaining how he led the Remnants of Despair, was in charge of the torture. He liked that Leader of Evil better.

"Did you find anything?" Kokichi spun on his heels and cheerfully answered something obtuse. They met at the bottom of the stairs and sat there. "Would you mind giving me a recap of the Killing Game?" Rantaro still seemed in deep thought as he spoke. "I asked the Future Foundation but they said it'd only make being around the others more awkward." A weak laugh. "If it'll piss off the nerds, sure." Kokichi hummed while searching for a starting point.  
"You know about Tsumugi, right? She was the mastermind, she killed you, all that stuff."  
Rantaro nodded.  
"I'll spare you the boring details then, you'll have to ask Shuichi for those." He leaned backwards. "After Kaede's trial everyone was super bummed out cause the two normal people were gone and we were left with a bunch of freaks. Monokuma tried to mess with us but it super didn't work, and then Kirumi killed Ryoma cause she's a cop. After the trial, everyone was mean to me for no reason and Maki even tried to kill me- she's an assassin, by the way. Did anyone tell you?"  
"She told me when we woke up."  
"Lucky you! At this point Kiyo brought up speaking with the dead. Everyone agreed to talk with Kaede and man, the seance was so fun! Tenko was sittin in the middle of the room and me, Kiyo, Shuichi and Angie were just standin in the corners in complete darkness and then Tenko got murdered!"   
He paused, waiting for a reaction that didn't come.   
"Kiyo did it, obviously. Cited some anthropological reason to do it and got boiled alive. Then Miu forced us to get in this virtual world to get fed even more fake bullshit. Do you wanna guess who killed her?"  
"I'd rather not." Rantaro smiled politely.  
"Come on, you're the Ultimate Survivor- or briefly was. I know you can do it!"  
He thought for a bit. "Did Gonta do it?"  
"You actually got it, yeah! Gonta "gentle giant" Gokuwhatever did it. In his defense, she was going to kill me first." He made his kicked puppy face.  
"I figured something like that would need to happen for him to kill someone."  
"So you really trust the guy, uh."  
"Not really. I know Tsumugi was the mastermind so he didn't have a reason to put on an elaborate act is all. Add in the fact it was in a virtual world, and he probably didn't fully grasp what he was doing."  
"Ye, something like that. Anyway, right after I learned Miu was trying to kill me, Angie went bonkers and pretended to be the mastermind so you can imagine how distressed I was. She trapped Kaito and killed him, and it was all so sad, I cried so hard I barely remember what happened next. Keeboy was blowing the place up so I actually almost died again, it's really a wonder I survived that game! Man- you must've been really unlucky to die before the first trial!"  
A smile. "That was the Foundation's take as well. They said it was too bad I avoided all the extra brainwashing and trauma, if you can believe it."  
Kokichi laughed. They both laughed, though they did through bitter jokes and blatant lies. The game itself wasn't touched any further. Simple jabs at the Foundation buried the suggestion of any wounds that ever needed healing and anything that couldn't end in a sick punchline was ignored. The conversation kept itself alive this way until the lingering unease felt too heavy and tied their throats. They sat, still. On cold, useless stairs in a forgotten basement.

They leaned against the walls in the hallway. Kokichi had grabbed some props on his way out and was trying to stuff them in his backpack.  
"Was there anything in those crates?"  
"Not really."  
They walked back to the first floor. What little light shone through the clouds barely made its way through the windows.  
"Wanna check out my hoard?"  
Rantaro blinked. "What?"  
"My hoard! I collected evidence before the Monopricks could get to it, whatever you're looking for might be in there."  
"Oh- Yeah! I- That'd be great actually."  
  
Kokichi sprinted out the main doors after a taunt, and Rantaro followed in time to see him slip in the dorms. He was then greeted upstairs with a flourish and quickly realized "hoard" wasn't an understatement. Seemingly random junk piled anywhere it could fit, rendering what furniture there was completely useless. As he turned to take in more of the scene he was faced with himself, hanging by his feet. It was unsettling, and absurd, and an existential crisis he'd managed to forget about. He'd stared at his own face before, seen it move in ways he never did. He'd heard his own voice, let it explain things he couldn't understand, with all his usual mannerisms authentically broadcast. He'd smiled through the nervousness, displayed himself as comforting and confident, and he'd noticed the way he spun his ring in a practiced rhythm, and had to believe the blatant contradiction for what it was; he truly was the man on video. They were one and the same, a couple days apart at most, despite gaps in memory and knowledge. Odd turns of phrases he'd never felt in his mouth before kept bouncing in his head, until it was forcefully stopped. Until he remembered recording it.  
"Don't mind the statue, Angie made a bunch of those." Kokichi tried to brush away the distress before letting himself fall backwards onto his bed. It didn't explain anything, aside from the sheer accuracy of the sculpture maybe. Still, the vague gesturing as if it was a perfectly normal thing to have in a bedroom, or anywhere really, gave Rantaro enough to latch on and focus back on his investigation. He crouched in the middle of the various boxes and started diligently looking through them, deadset on ignoring his inner turmoil until a more convenient time.

Kokichi kept an eye on him at first. It wasn't exactly entertaining to look at, but other things kept his mind occupied. Surrounded by everything he'd collected, he couldn't help but think. The various objects obviously didn't serve any purpose anymore, the game was over and had been for a while. No one cared about the trick to the stairs, or the use of the katana. His careful collecting, his theories, his plans, none of it held any meaning anymore. If anything, it was a bit embarrassing to admit he'd cared that much. The whiteboard was permanently stained a dull gray, his latest and last conclusions engraved forever and loudly displaying how little progress he'd made. One person deemed half-trustworthy, everyone else a potential murderer, nothing setting the mastermind apart. He had no idea, really. Until the very end, he had no idea who it could've been. He defaulted on "one of the girls", a bet with odds too good to be satisfying, too safe for the genius he thought of himself as. In retrospect, he wasn't any better than Rantaro had been; he didn't trust anyone either. He'd been a bit less approachable and so he'd survived longer, but there wasn't much more to it. He wondered, if that ball had missed, if someone had taken his place, what would have been? Rantaro seemed as intrigued by the amassed junk now as Kokichi had been during the game. They might've fought over who got to keep all that crap, or maybe they'd have managed to find a way to stop it before either had to die. If they'd somehow trusted each other, they could've saved everyone. Kokichi would've lied, still. Rantaro could've been his cryptic self too. Things didn't have to be that different to simply be better.  
Kokichi rolled on his stomach. Rantaro was still going through each box and looking at every single piece of paper. He thoroughly examined everything, either unaware most of it had been written by fellow students, or he didn't care. He was careful not to miss anything and Kokichi thought it was a bit too much, but he was the one who'd gathered all of it in the first place. Somewhere, his 16 year-old self was delighted that his hard work wasn't going to waste. His current self was bored.

"What are you searching for anyway?" Rantaro looked up from his current pile. He answered something vague about having missed some info the first time around. It didn't really say anything at all and Kokichi barely listened to it. "Is it a list of participants or something?" Rantaro blinked, and whatever other contained reaction he had was immediately picked up. "Oh did I get it right?" He grinned. "You're so predictable Rantaro. It's kinda boring, really." Rantaro spun his ring with a weak laugh. "You got me!" A pause. "How'd you guess?" Kokichi sat up on the edge of the bed. "Where would be the fun in telling you?" His legs bounced. "I told you my thought process for the Gonta thing, it's only fair." He hummed, as if he hadn't already decided. "And what if I don't want to?" Rantaro sat closer to him. "Then I'll have no choice but to be a bit more forceful." A faked shriek. "You're getting scary, Amami! Fine- Since you care so much." Rantaro gave Kokichi back his space. "Only looking at boring paperwork on top of being obviously still obsessed with that game kinda gave it away- that and I've been monitoring you all along." Rantaro smiled. "Ah, I see."  
He took a second to decide what to say next. Kokichi was bound to ask questions, if not to ease the boredom, to simply mess with him. It was better said out of his own volition, on his own terms, than part of the other's usual games. Still, it was quite hard to bring himself to say it so bluntly. He'd managed to convince himself it wasn't that big of a deal compared to what the others had to go through, but no one else had been drawn back to the Academy, or no one else would have if not for someone equally incapable of moving on.

"I remember the other game." He breathed in. "I guess spending time out of the simulation brought some of the memories back." He carefully faked a smile. "I wanted to know if those other students were okay but I only have a vague recollection of some of them so," He breathed out. "I figured now's my last chance."  
Kokichi stared. "Uh? Is that it?" He then stretched his face in one of his grins, and with an excess of glee he stood up and forced Rantaro to do the same. "I know a place they might have that, come on!" He firmly grabbed his wrist and broke into another sprint.

They weren't running anymore, Kokichi had enough sympathy to give him a break. They followed the long corridor to a room that Rantaro had never seen unlocked, Kokichi still holding onto him. The checkered door would've been more of a curiosity without the Survivor's Perk; he knew it simply hosted long stairs into the Ultimate Astronaut's lab, though he wouldn't admit it in fear of spoiling Kokichi's fun. Being inside the tower put the building's height into perspective. Walking up to the fifth floor was sort of a chore already, but the different decor at least kept things from entirely blending together. Those stairs didn't give them that. They mindlessly marched up, climbed step after step, tired from the earlier sprint and the late hour. They tried to keep a conversation going to ease the experience somewhat, or Rantaro did and Kokichi made fun of him for it. Half of the way through he joked about dying before ever reaching the top, and Kokichi stopped. He turned to look at him and for maybe the first time, there was no performance on his face.  
"I'm just joking!" Rantaro smiled apologetically but it shone with genuine comfort. He closed the gap between them and took Kokichi's hand and then kept going upwards. They didn't say anything else until the door was in front of them.

It was more an airlock than a door, and it was more effort to open than the room was worth. Blue screens glared at them. The metal grate threatened to make them slip. The dusty red floor hurt their skin. The room was as welcoming as space itself, made of mostly nothing, and what filler there was was only light projected on the ceiling. There was nothing to see or do outside of the cockpit, and what that had was meaningless data on the emptiness of space. Rantaro thought Kaito would've loved it, and Kokichi knew it for a fact. They reached one of the black walls and walked through it to a room even more pointless. On a single table layed a folder of gibberish. Kokichi recognized it as more lies that they'd been fed during the game, a story of human demise and last hope space missions. It was basically Superman's backstory put in the hands of obnoxious writers and given the name of a rodent. Rantaro more or less shared the thought.  
"This sucks."  
Rantaro tried not to laugh. "I don't think it has any information we can trust anyway."  
"Even if it did it's still so boring. I'd rather die than have to read that shit."  
"Maybe that's why they left it for us to find."  
Kokichi started tearing up, mumbling something about mean, cruel people, until he saw Rantaro wasn't taking the bait and he stopped.  
"Did you ever find how to access the mastermind's room?"  
"It's super easy. You can prolly figure it out on the way there."

The way down was quicker. The relative normalcy was a nice break between the tacky rooms and Rantaro was busy taking on the challenge. They made their way back around to the main hallway and he stopped dead in his tracks. Kokichi spun around and was met with Rantaro's eyes, shining with something he'd never seen. He asked (and now Kokichi could tell it was the excitement of having solved a puzzle) if it was through the bathroom, and after commenting on how bad this would look if anyone else was around, he opened the door and walked in.

Kokichi thought the underground passage was the creepiest place he'd seen and that Rantaro seemed weirdly used to those things. He watched as he immediately went back to his little investigation. He looked around for answers to his years old questions as he'd been doing all night. How invested he was and how far he was willing to go would've been worrying if the sight wasn't incredibly repetitive and inherently boring. So Kokichi went back to his usual dance, he'd search his own way and so, soon enough, every piece of decor that the wall held was scattered on the floor. He knocked on every metallic-looking surface, broke some pieces off, fixed others. He'd have hated to find that room while still in the game. It was even faker than his lab and it was frankly insulting. He understood it was meant for the mastermind only, but it didn't even have a mini-fridge, or cell reception of any kind, and so he found it hard to accept. He started planning how exactly he was going to tear that table apart when Rantaro flopped down on the couch besides him. He sighed, and Kokichi noticed how tired he looked. Not only from the late hour, or walking around, or repeated deceptions, or trauma linked to the place. He simply looked exhausted like office workers in their thirties are when they realize their life isn't going to get better- or how Kokichi pictured them anyway. He sat next to him and kept staring and he witnessed how Rantaro softened his traits with an awkward smile too perfect to feel right, but as always, comforting in its own way. He thought he must've done this a thousand times, and will have to do it again a thousand more before he'd allow himself to display anything less than kind. Kokichi wondered what he'd look like mad.  
"Do I have something on my face?"  
"Mmm... Nope! You just always look weird."  
Rantaro laughed. Partially practiced, of course, but also genuine. That was enough for him to relax and let the conversation make its lazy way, until something reminded them of the room they were in. Silence didn't fall. Instead, Kokichi prodded, and Rantaro answered.  
"Why'd you need a stupid list of names in the first place? Sixteen teens getting kidnapped at the same time leaves a record you know."  
"I've tried that, but I have no idea what year that game was." He forced a smile. "My memory's pretty screwed up."  
"It couldn't have been that long ago, we're the same age you know."  
"Oh, are we?"  
"What's your birthday?"  
"October 3rd 2000."  
"See! I'm even older than you!"   
Rantaro laughed again. It was more of a light chuckle, but it had nothing forced behind it. He thanked Kokichi for the help but the sincerity of his smile, no matter how small it itself was, drowned out the words. Kokichi stood up again, something seemingly unrelated on his mind. He grinned too, though motivated by mischief rather than a genuine sense of warmth. "I just remembered somewhere we have to search!" He spoke boldly, and got another smile. "Lead the way."

They exited through the library. Despite the Foundation's advice, Rantaro did ask his classmates about the game. He'd turned to Kaede first, and when she had apologies instead of answers he figured Shuichi was the second-best pick. He told him gently. He made sure to get to the point but knew what was better left implied and the whole story surprisingly didn't sting as much as it should've when it was paired with sincere relief. Shuichi hadn't witnessed it personally, and though he knew it still had happened, seeing Rantaro alive and well made the whole thing feel like a hoax, or a weird dream he once had, and that tone softened the blow just enough that Rantaro could bear hearing it. He mentioned pictures now lost to the virtual reality, commented on how it was probably for the best after all, as it would've been quite inappropriate to offer them to the victim. Rantaro later asked Kiibo to print them. He'd seen it through his own eyes, through the camera's eyes, and now, he was seeing it through the murderer's eyes. He emerged from the bookcase with balled up fists, and saw the books he'd splattered with his blood. Had he died on the spot? His memory was getting fuzzier the more he tried to remember. Human beings weren't made to keep breathing after their own death but three fifths of his classmates had died and were still walking. He could see it so clearly, in between the blurred shapes, a striking head of green just standing there begging to be bashed in. He could see why Tsumugi had done it. He could see himself do it. If the roles were reversed, if he'd been picked to be the mastermind, and she'd been the amnesiac, it would've played out the same. The mechanical click and the blinding flash. The first ball on the floor. The second one gripped so tight by knuckles so white. Someone collapsed, someone else back in hiding. The game set in motion.

His vision started focusing again on the stairs to the first floor. The obnoxious colors took shape and he remembered what he was here for. He wondered if he would've been in a similar state if Tsumugi hadn't stepped in. He would've narrowly avoided death, would've known someone was out to get him, and still he would've had to walk up the stairs and keep going. He wasn't trapped in the game anymore though. Not physically. And unless Kokichi planned to kill him in real life, he was safe. He kept reminding himself he was safe but it didn't stop the shaking. He didn't feel safe, not until he was allowed to rest. It was a self-imposed strain, obviously. He understood he should, but couldn't stop the expeditions. Not only was there nothing else for him to do, he would never forgive himself if he abandoned his sisters like that. He had to know they were ok and until then, he couldn't be ok himself. He closed his eyes to take a deep breath and a light squeeze brought him the rest of the way back. He actually processed what was in front of him for the first time since they'd stepped out of the mastermind's room and saw Kokichi looking back at him and waiting. They'd stopped in front of the main doors and Rantaro assumed it wasn't the first time they'd stopped on the way. He blinked once more, forced his mind to refocus, and crafted one of his smiles. Reassuring, polite, apologetic. He nodded and squeezed Kokichi's hand back and they stepped outside.

The air was noticeably colder. It lingered in their lungs and kissed their fingers. Rantaro anchored himself to Kokichi. He took in the night sky, took in the stars and their patterns and down another flight of stairs he felt himself soothed. He started to tune in Kokichi's voice. He'd started talking a bit ago and had now stopped himself mid-sentence to comment on their surroundings. "Don't pay attention to the hotel, we all thought it was creepy as fuck. I don't think anyone ever used the thing- we have dorms that actually lock like thanks for offering a creepy hotel away from everything else, Monokuma, but it's not appreciated. I'm just glad no one got killed in it honestly. Anyway, check this shit out!" He gently let Rantaro's hand go and took a couple quick steps ahead to properly display the casino with his arms. He then waited for Rantaro to catch up again and let him hold onto him once more. As they entered, Kokichi went on about that time they all gathered to play. "All" seemed to only mean six of them but they let it slide. As he recalled the way Kaito had invited himself, as confident in his skills as always, only to be severely beaten by Ryoma at every turn, Rantaro waited for the punchline. He'd freed their hands during the story, around the time Kokichi started calling Kaito an idiot every other word, and he knew that whenever he judged would be funnier, Kokichi would comment on it. He'd joke about how clingy Rantaro got, or how he wasn't that much of a big brother after all, or mock him for taking so long to let go, for not saying a single word since the library. He listened to the story but braced himself for whatever trap was being layed and then, it didn't come. Kokichi was interrupted by his own laughter and had to stop at Kaito sobbing on the floor while Kiyo gave a speech about gambling addictions and Shuichi tried to keep his amusement hidden. He couldn't even mention how awfully smug Ryoma looked or how Miu kept making fun of everyone involved until she was in her room, and even then she could still be heard giggling through the walls. The punchline never hit because it was never coming in the first place and once he realized it, a weight lifted off his shoulders and Rantaro couldn't help but laugh along.

They peeked downstairs briefly. Kokichi really wanted to give the various machines a spin despite weaving his cautionary tale, and Rantaro was curious as well. He figured the casino was abandoned anyway, they could easily steal their money back. But they only found an empty basement. The machines were there but had nothing inside, their mechanisms seemingly only real in the digital world. Kokichi whined at that. He protested and complained that the games were the only reason he even bothered coming, that whoever tricked him into believing they'd be there was the cruelest, most evil person in the world, followed by his usual crying routine. Once he thought the gag had ran its course, he stopped, and concluded with a cheeky "Just kidding!" before running back upstairs. He slid behind the counter and played with the chips, offered some for Rantaro to buy, slid them in his pockets still after he'd declined. They went through the various prizes as well. Rantaro was sure he'd seen similar piles in claw machines, how blatantly they were targeted at teens worried him a bit. He supposed it made sense though. His snooping around hadn't been entirely fruitless, he knew this place had been built as a real school first. The project was then hi-jacked and the Future Foundation let it happen because of blatant incompetence or as a joke, no one could really tell at this point. He figured this was never meant to be a casino in the first place, and then the gifts wouldn't be so inappropriate anymore. The thought of winning various flags at the school's official arcade was a bit weird but something he was willing to accept as normal at this point. It was better than getting them through Killing Game-sponsored underage gambling, at least.

Kokichi threw a bunch of rings in his face. He looked at him with big eyes, expecting some sort of reaction other than bewilderment. "Pretty neat, uh?" A grin. Rantaro picked one up and examined it before slipping it on his wrist. It fit, though a bit loose. "I think it's for your ears." He stared until Rantaro sighed and he went right back to rummaging. They got settled on the floor and he pushed the bigger pile in-between them. They took turns showing each other the random items. Most of it was buried in generic plushies, things like bunnies, puppies and teddies. Rantaro pointed out a set of tennis balls and immediately regretted doing so when Kokichi started wildly throwing them around the room. He only stopped after knocking off the neat row of potted succulents and scattering their dirt on the carpet. There was a surprising amount of school furniture too. Notebooks and bags that Rantaro considered leaving with. The most tempting item was the pair of headphones that had only survived Kokichi's hoarding impulse by being on the highest shelves.   
"That's the 25th ladybug so far."   
Kokichi held a comical amount of brooches in his lap.   
"I found a couple too, here." He tossed them on the pile.   
"...29, 30, 31."   
"31? That's a weird amount to stop on, do you think there's more?"   
He shook his head. "I've been pocketing them for a while cause they look so stupid. Unless you come across any, that's it."   
Rantaro quickly scanned the room. They were a bit tacky, they managed to be easier to spot than the stiletto boots by being just that shiny, but still he didn't notice any left.   
"It's a lucky number you know."   
He turned back to Kokichi.   
"It's fitting for a lucky bug."   
Rantaro smiled. "It's also a prime, they might've done it on purpose."   
He tossed the brooches aside with a shrug. "Who cares? It's a boring topic, change it." Rantaro didn't know what else to do but pick some other random item and start talking about it. That seemed to please Kokichi for a bit, until he asked for the topic to be changed again. That happened a couple times before Rantaro grabbed a game and didn't have any platitudes to say about it. Instead, his eyes opened a bit wider and he read the summary on the back a bit more closely.  
"I used to play that game with my sisters."  
"Uh?" Kokichi shifted closer to get a better look. "Werewolf? Didn't know you were a furry."  
That made him breath out a laugh. "It's a hidden role game, I think you'd like it."  
"What? You think I like lying to my friends? I'm hurt. I'd hate that game if I were anything but a villager, actually."  
"So you do know it."  
A pause. Then Kokichi threw his arms in the air and let himself fall backwards. "Wa, you caught me!"  
He laughed, bubbling from his throat and too high to be faked.  
"You must be really good at it then." He winked from the floor. "Put it in your backpack, we can play it sometime."  
Rantaro smiled and got up, still holding the game. "We'll see." Kokichi followed, almost jumped back up on his feet if it weren't for his friend's helping hand. He put the box in the green bag and he discreetly slipped in a couple rings and brooches when Rantaro wasn't looking.

They paused in the courtyard. They'd exited the casino without giving it much thought but it now dawned on them that they didn't have anything planned next. The sun was starting to tint the sky, there was no more moonlight to hide from and nothing to explore either. They were left simply standing in the open space, not quite looking at each other while the breeze tried to push them towards the gates. Kokichi took the bait. He launched himself forward propelled by the wind and he made sure to bump into Rantaro when he yelled "Tag!". Rantaro watched him take off. He was too busy grinning to follow just yet. After a second he snorted and finally started running himself. Kokichi was still in the open space and catching up to him was easy enough until he actually was in reaching distance and he got ridiculously fast. He'd turn corners Rantaro didn't even know were there, jump obstacles he'd never seen before and sprint like he hadn't been already. He circled around to the pool's entrance and actually went in, seemed to leap over the stagnant water, and turned around only to dismiss Rantaro's warnings about running on wet floors. Kokichi was stacking whatever he found lying around while the other watched from across. His efforts should've been fruitless. There wasn't that much to pile up to begin with, and he'd never reach the height of the window, and yet. He jumped, propped up by some cracks between the bricks, and climbed up the wall. He sat in-between the two spaces, stuck out his tongue and disappeared again. Rantaro rolled his eyes at that. He waited to hear the gym doors open and close and turned around to leave the pool like a normal person. He jogged up to the dining hall's patio. There, he went through the vines tangled around the glass frame and the metal bolted to it. The room seemed to shift under his steps as it was reminded of its purpose. While the chairs blinked in their spots he heard hurried footsteps down the corridor. He waited. On the other side, Kokichi made his way to what would've been the worst intersection in any functioning building. Everything students might want to access all in one place, but Kokichi kept going. He slowed in the main hall. Opened the doors and closed them again. He backtracked, his steps hitting with a different rhythm, but just as hurried. His soles squeaked against the floor between the doors. His heels hit the ground and silence fell. He took in a breath and started calling "Ran-" He shrieked when the hand gently shoved him. His heart settled and the other had taken off already. "You're it!"

Kokichi was seething. That was, he had to admit, really well thought. He'd never seen anyone play dirty at tag before and that deserved some respect. But he wasn't going to say that out loud. He ran after him and only stumbled once before closing the gap. "That didn't count!" It was hard to keep up and yell at the same time. "I only stopped cause I thought-" His lungs strained. "I wasn't running it super doesn't count!" Rantaro didn't have to jump over anything or take weird turns. He could focus on keeping his legs moving at a good pace without being subjected to whatever his mind thought would look cool. Kokichi began to despair that he'd stand defeated twice until Rantaro went for the stairs to the other labs and he saw the opportunity. He pounced and the landing almost sent both flying. Still, Kokichi pushed through the ringing and smell of iron to latch onto the other's back and proudly declare "You're double it!" Rantaro looked a bit shaken, though he thought he was lucky his shoulder blade took the brunt of the damage. He settled his nerves with a laugh a bit too erratic and admitted defeat. "That means you've got to carry me back to the fence now." His smile stayed. "Fine, just give me a sec." He cracked his spine before letting Kokichi properly climb on. He was lighter than he'd expected.   
"Did you hear about Kaede?"  
"What? Is she dead?" Kokichi's voice brushed directly against his ear.  
"No, she's releasing a CD."  
"Uh." He whined. "That's boring. You're boring, Rantaro."  
"Watch your mouth or I'll drop you."  
"I'm sowwy-" He yelped as he suddenly, but briefly, felt himself falling. "I'm joking- I was joking. I won't do it again."  
Rantaro chuckled next to his parked bike and gently lowered him back on his feet.  
"When are you leaving?"  
He stopped fidgeting with the lock. "The country?"  
"Obviously."  
"I don't know yet. I'll probably go on impulse." A weak smile.  
Kokichi yawned.  
"Did you get any sleep before breaking in here?" He cut him off.  
"Did you?"  
A sigh. "It's not healthy to stay awake that long, especially with all the running we've been doing. You should rest when you get home, sleep deprivation seriously impacts your health, you know."  
"I'm gonna assume you didn't."  
"We should get breakfast first, actually."  
"Are you asking me out, Amami?"  
He put his hands up and played along. "You caught me!"  
"Let's go then, your treat."

Rantaro pushed his bike down the street and Kokichi followed with a skateboard under his arm. After 20 minutes or so, they sat across each other with cheap food on the table. Rantaro watched as the clouds dissipated, and he wondered if anyone else was watching this with him. He didn't have that many friends, and Kokichi was focused on his noodles, but maybe the other students were up too. He imagined Kirumi would be, considering her job, and maybe Kaito would be too. He guessed Miu probably wouldn't be, or like them she had been up all night. The fact he didn't know for sure bothered him. He was part of the group by default, but hadn't truly contributed anything to it apart from dying. He belonged to the first class he'd known, the one he'd let down when he allowed the game to continue once more, and then forgotten. He hoped they'd all been freed. He wished his plan had worked. He found comfort in the idea that, somewhere, he was sharing this sunrise with his old classmates.  
"That's cheesy."  
"Is it?" He chuckled, a bit embarrassed.  
"Why do you still care so much, anyway? They're prolly convinced you're dead."  
"I owe it to them. I owe the same to you."  
He barked a laugh. "The only thing you owe me is entertainment. And this meal."  
"Does that go both ways?"  
A shrug. "Not really. Only thing I owe you is my life, I guess."  
Rantaro blinked.  
"You inspired me. Seeing you dead was tough but it made me realize I only had one shot at this and I should focus on staying alive. If the first victim had been anyone else I prolly wouldn't have learned anything, I would've just assumed they were a loser and moved on."  
"I... I'm-"  
"Did you really buy that? I'm lying, Rantaro. Obviously. Guess that's the one thing I owe you."  
"Lies?"  
"And coming clean about them! You're not as fun to trick as the others, anyway."  
"So you'll admit you lied in that recap you gave?"  
"Uh? What makes you think I did?"  
"Why would I think you didn't?"  
He hummed. "That reasoning is sort of flimsy, you can't just assume I'm the same person you knew for two days back then. But you're right, big reveal, I lied! You wanna guess what parts it was?"  
A sigh. "Just tell me what actually happened."  
"Fine. So basically, Kiyo killed Angie first, the seance thing was to contact her, and I pretended to be the mastermind instead. Everything else played out more or less the same. Not a big deal."

It was a big deal, obviously. He wouldn't have lied if it wasn't. He still didn't know what to make of how it all played out, and of how he acted. Not that many people had witnessed the truth, really, just the survivors and Kaito, but it still bothered him that they could misinterpret his motive. He didn't sacrifice himself to save them, but he obviously didn't to save himself either. He wanted to outwit Monokuma, or the mastermind, or whoever there was to outwit. It was a childish desire to be the best and it was just as embarrassing as people thinking he cares and so he had to make sure they forgot about it. If they wanted to remember anything, they should stay fixated on him playing mastermind and how willing they were to believe it, maybe then the Kokichi they assumed they knew wouldn't bother him.  
"Why'd you go back in the first place?"  
He shrugged. "Why do people do anything?"  
"Because you could?"  
"That or I thought it'd be fun, or I missed the place, or I wanted to steal some junk, or I'm super into urbex, or I was secretely hoping I'd run into Shuichi; you pick."  
Rantaro exhaled a smile.  
"Can't a corpse check out his place of death one last time? Isn't that what you did?"  
A weak laugh. "I guess so."

They let the silence settle and ate. Kokichi himself didn't really know why, when he heard about the demolition, he'd set up a reminder on his phone, and when the notification came he already had his shoes on. It made sense, it still did, but it wasn't motivated by anything and it wasn't on impulse either, unless impulses could span over several months. He hoped something similar had happened to Rantaro, that maybe he'd been abroad for the last 3 years, and upon returning he'd heard the news and grabbed his bike. He didn't want to explain himself unless he could plaster on an obnoxious grin and lie it away. He'd gone back for the memories, obviously. If he was still seeing a therapist they'd call it "unhealthy" and "counter-productive" or "triggering", but he didn't not do it to cope either. It was grounding to know that the place really existed, or at least a first draft of it did. There was a thing he could point to and say "Here, that's where it happened, that's where they held me, and here's where I died." So really, it was fun and good and epic. Except for the dying.  
"I'm not sure what my therapist would think of it either."  
"Uh? Haven't you been out of the country a bunch?"  
He pieced together something vague at first before realizing he couldn't ask honesty from Kokichi without giving it himself. "I haven't taken the boat as much since, actually. It hasn't felt right."  
"Did the Foundation-"  
"Yes."  
Kokichi blinked.  
"Sorry. It's- After we escaped I wanted nothing more than to leave. But I probably would've gotten myself killed, so I got therapy instead." A pause. "I did go on another trip afterwards, I came back a while ago."  
"Was gonna ask if the Foundation sucks but ok."  
That made Rantaro laugh, if only to get rid of the built-up stress. "Can I ask you something?"  
"Sure."  
"How did you climb up the pool wall?"  
A shrug. "I just kinda did. I'm more concerned with why that place still had electricity."  
"And your hoard."  
"That too."

They kept talking over empty bowls and for a while it felt right. There were no more headaches trying to figure out if the floor underneath their feet would stop allowing them to stand, no more quiet anxiety buzzing under their nails begging them to leave, to run and to never look back. They weren't casualties left to roam their grave site blindingly aware that they shouldn't be when looking at each other. They were two young adults, late teens, who'd known each other in high school and chatting, not about but not around either, a peculiar semester they'd shared. They could breathe and it didn't burn their lungs, and it didn't freeze their tongue, and it didn't sting their soul. They could talk, freely because they didn't need to endlessly explain what they'd both been, but still reserved enough because their lives weren't on the line anymore and they wouldn't bring anything to their early grave if it wasn't said as soon as it would be heard. This happened to also be the most contact they'd ever had, and Rantaro wondered if it would've been routine. If there had been the slightest difference, if his surviving days hadn't been cut so short, if only (and he despised the thought, it made him sick) someone else had taken his place, there wouldn't be such gaps between their words. They wouldn't have waited so long before seeing each other again and maybe he could've gone right back to traveling, only with a companion this time, and they would've grown even closer. He would've already explained why running from country to country was so crucial to him, and hopefully Kokichi wouldn't have told him to just give up like everyone else did. He'd know about the other Oumas as well. A family of purple eyes, and maybe pets too. If he had simply lived enough to share meaningful stares, for their fingers to brush against each other and to tuck stray hairs behind the other's ear, he'd know him enough he wouldn't need to wonder how to best ask him.

Kokichi barked a laugh. He wanted to make fun of how wrong that assumption was, of how blissfully unaware Rantaro was of what his life had been like, but what good would that bring? He wasn't interested in discussing the mundane details of family life. If others wanted to bring it up, he'd find a way to twist it into something mildly entertaining but his own turn to share would never come. There wasn't much to say anyway. Murdered relatives subplots tended to run dry pretty quickly.  
"What about DICE?"  
He paused. A couple of the students knew what place it had in his life but Rantaro wasn't one of them; as with most things, he'd died too soon to find out. That allowed Kokichi to wax poetics in a somewhat mocking tone. Pleasantries about how his organization was a big family, how he deeply cared for each and every member, anything to make it sound like it was one big cult. It wasn't technically false and that technicality landed bitterness to the words. He tried to still hold onto how evil they all were and what incredible power they held over the wide world, but as it was becoming routine at this point, Rantaro didn't take it at face value. He read between the lines well enough and got a better idea of what DICE really was than Kokichi was comfortable with. So he changed tracks. Instead, he "revealed" he was related to the higher-ranking members by blood, talked about a country somewhere in Europe, even brought kids into the equation, any nonsense to drown what little desire for truth he himself had. He didn't owe anyone honesty or coherence or kindness and he liked it that way. The other still walked on eggshells around him and he thought it was the highest form of entertainment. Rantaro had a balancing act, between caring and driving him away, and it was so blatant Kokichi could feel each slip of his feet and desperate swing of his arms. That gave him power in conversation. It gave him safety. He desperately needed safety.

They stood outside the small store ridiculously aware that there was nothing else to add but not quite ready to say goodbye yet. They'd exchanged numbers with a promise to keep in touch and to maybe play that game they'd stolen (or anything else, really). If that normalcy was something Rantaro had forgotten how to do, Kokichi had never learned it in the first place. He fumbled with the phones and the urge to turn around and declare all of this to had been a lie. Still, he fought against it, and joked about leaving the other on read instead. He didn't know when exactly but he'd started thinking about his jokes a bit more around Rantaro. He timed them with more care, and sometimes reworded them so much they'd lost their initial sting. He didn't mind too much. He figured it was part of growing up rather than a genuine wish to be more considerate. It had to be, because they weren't close, except maybe in the physical sense because sometime his leg would bounce just a bit too much and it would hit the other in the shin, or he'd gesture too widely and brush against his skin. Neither seemed to mind, though, so maybe they could be closer; and maybe he would text Rantaro back, or even first, or prank him over the phone; and maybe they could have a normal friendship, undisturbed by the need to survive that they'd been plagued with. They'd part on their own terms this time, and without tragedy at their heels, and as they rode on their separate ways they thought it was the weirdest feeling. They were lighter than they'd been in years, and with so much shared and even more left to say they felt the very real pull that assured them this wasn't over. Maybe Kokichi was growing a bit attached, and maybe Rantaro enjoyed Kokichi's antics more than he should, but as they lingered in the first rays of sun, it didn't sound that bad.


End file.
